


And then there's you

by Sayhell00



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Drugs, Hurt/Comfort, Ian tries his best, M/M, Mental Illness, Prison, Recovery, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-03-23 06:15:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3757558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sayhell00/pseuds/Sayhell00
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In hindsight, staying unmedicated was a bad idea, Ian decides, if the scars on his wrists have anything to say about it.</p><p>or</p><p>Ian tries to get back on his feet, rebuilding his relationships with all those around him and trying his damned hardest to rectify his mistakes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's different but its perfect.

It's different when he arrives, there's this uncertainty in the air as he crosses the threshold; he knows everyone is terrified. It’s the look Debbie gives him, the tenderness and hesitation in Fiona's touch, Jesus, even Liam doesn't come bounding towards him, even the three year old knows enough, from the atmosphere, from his face, that things aren't the same anymore. However, Ian cant help how his shoulders relax, cant help how he lets out the breathe he didn't know he had been holding, home still exists, home is still here and even though he has no reason to think otherwise after spending three months away it’s the best thing that he could have ever wished for. The familiarity is so overwhelming he ignores Debbie's unsaid comparisons to Monica, he ignores Fiona's fear, ignores the ache in his wrist and with a sigh says, 

'I'm home,' its tiered, its exhausted but it tells them what he means. It tells them sorry, it tells them I'm glade to be here, it tells them I'll try my fucking hardest to get better and for the time being it seems to be enough because the atmosphere lifts and Fiona's gentle hand on his shoulder spins him around and her arms envelop him in a bone crushing 'Fiona' hug and _he's home he's home_ , he feels Debbie's body slam against them as she joins in on the love and he feels Liam's little arms wrap around his left leg and _he's home he's home_. 

'I missed you guys,' he whispers in the crook of Fiona's neck and it’s the most sincere thing he's said in months. Fiona then pulls away and smiles at him, it's her sad smile, her relieved smile and her over-the-fucking-moon smile all at once and she just looks at him, takes it in, takes him in and then her hand lifts and smacks his shoulder good, then again and again its half hearted as she says 'you asshole' but there's no venom and she laughs her happy-sad-don't-know-what-the-fuck-to-do laugh and then brings him right back into that hug and Ian could swear he could stay there for the rest of his life, in Fiona's warm hug surrounded by Debbie and Liam. Lip isn't there. Lip hasn't been there. Lip cant even bare to look at him and Ian understands. Its too soon, too soon and Ian knows for sure that all Lip sees when he looks at Ian is blood, it's blood against pale skin so its okay that he's not here, its okay that it'll take some time, Ian will be sure to apologize when that times comes but Ian bloody misses him to death and he tries not to think about it. Pushes the guilt aside and just enjoys the feel of his sisters and baby brother, enjoys this moment because its been so long since they felt like a family. 

He's in his room and asleep within the hour of course but it feels different to the first time he came home from the clinic. For one he's not in the deep end of denial, he doesn't like his diagnosis, doesn't like that this will be his life from now on but the blade against his wrist did one hell of a job convincing him that this is just how things are and he can carry on thinking he's okay without his meds or he can suck it up and get better, if not for himself, at the very least for them.  
He dreams of blood and Lip screaming and crying and begging _please, please, please ian, stay awake say with me ohmygodohmygod_ and he dreams of mickey _this is you breaking up with me?_ dreams of lip _you'll be alright, right?_  
_yeah._  
He wakes up with a start as Fiona does that fucking awful scream from downstairs. 

'KIDS! BREAKFAST!' He sighs as if the memories of his nightmare would leave with the breath, stares at his ceiling for a while before finally swinging his legs over with a huff, he doesn't have all day since he has work. Fiona doesn't like the idea of him working, not so soon, not yet, as if washing dishes will single headedly land him back into the nut house but Ian needs his routine and he needs something to distract him. He takes a glance towards his night stand sees all his medication with a bottle of Gatorade next to it and can only assume that either Debs or Fiona sneaked into his room and left it there for him, his room...he's moved into lips old room, everyone thought it'd be good for Ian to have his space and here he was, he sighs again for the tenth time that morning and shook his head to clear lips face from his memory and reaches for his meds. 

He greets Fiona and the kids as he makes his way down the stairs, Fiona smiles at him her hands on her hips as she looks at him with her matching 'patsies pies' t-shirt. 

'Mornin'' she beams, there's something about her standing in the kitchen cooking breakfast, that genuine smile on her face, when was the last time Fiona made breakfast? He doesn’t know but seeing her there, pancakes stacked on the plate next to her, smile of a thousand suns on her face Ian is reminded of a time before he ran away to join the army, is reminded of a time where he doesn't scare his bother half to death and dump the actual fucking love of his life like its nothing and the smile that grows on his face from the nostalgia is genuine and he replies with a quite, 'mornin'' of his own making his way to slide on the seat next to Debbie, the pancakes are placed in front of him and so is a mug of coffee, he doesn't have to ask to know its decafe. 

'D'you take you meds?' Fiona asks unsure if it was okay to press, but honestly after three months of the psych ward this isn't that bad. 

'Yeah.' He quickly replies before stuffing the pancakes in his mouth, he closes his eyes and enjoys the fucking amazing feeling of eating Fiona's pancakes for the first time in so long, ' so good Fi.' He groans as he throws his head back. 

'So...' He sees her eyes shift, she doesn’t know what's okay and what's not he can see it in the way her lips twitch, 'how're you feeling?' She finally asks. 

'Better.' Is the most honest reply Ian can tell her, not that better meant anything really because right now better meant he didn't think about being dead every waking hour, right now better meant not being completely numb and before that better meant not stealing babies and running off with crazy mothers but he doesn't say that, just looks at Fiona in a way that says _I got this_. Her shoulders -that Ian hadn't realised were tense- relaxed and she let an easy smile grace her lips. Ian decides that that was his favourite look on Fiona. 

'One day at a time.' She reminds him and ruffles his head it fills him with such comfort, such warmth and makes him feel like he's fifteen again. 

'I missed you guys' he says again.  
\----- 

He gets a text from Mandy as Fiona and him are on their way home from work, Fiona insisted on having all the same shifts as Ian, she probably wanted to look after him and she's got that weird influence over Sean so Ian can expect to see her lot in the next few months not that he really minds it, these days he gets awfully lonely awfully quick. 

_From Mandy:  
I'm back home. _

Ian reads it once, reads it twice and then reads it a third time, fucking Mandy was back. As quickly as she disappeared from his life she was back. He wonders for a while if she knew what was happening, if she knew how much he'd been fucking up and then dismisses the thought because there was no way she'd know and not have been around.

'Mandy's back.' Ian tells Fiona breathlessly, he sees Fiona's head whip towards him, there are all sorts of emotions going through her eyes, she has a lot of opinions and Ian can see all of them run wild inside her head, Fiona never did like Mandy for some crazy reason. 'Go on say what's on you mind.' he tells her because honestly that constipated look on her face was probably worse then anything she had to say about his best friend. 

'I just think its fucking convenient for her to show up now,' she looks at Ian from the corner of her eye, she doesn't wanna upset him, or anger him or any of that shit so she's careful, he doesn't react so she carries on, 'we hear nothing of her during the time you needed her the most and now that you're on the mend she shows up.' 

Ian laughs lightly, 'unless you managed to call her or contact her Fiona, I really don't think she even knows what happened.' Ian says because its true. Mickey went to jail pretty much on the same day Ian fucked everything with him up, thanks to fucking Sammi, so he sure as hell didn't know and it's not like lip was gunna contact her and Ian was in no state to even pick up his phone let alone dial her number, she sighs because she knows he's got a point, it was illogical to think that Mandy would just show up with no one having told her dick.

'You gunna go meet her then.' She opts because Fiona hates admitting she's wrong, its not so much a question as it is a statement because both of them now that Ian will. 

_To Mandy:  
you at your house? _

'You gunna tell her then?' Fiona squeaks, Ian can tell she's worried she's crossed a line because the question was loaded, because how do you even begin to tell something so heavy, Ian thinks its simple, you don’t. 

'Nah,' he says after a second of hesitation, 'what's the point?'

_from Mandy:_ yeah.  
'Guess there isn't one.' Fiona agrees, after all Gallagher's don’t whine. The rest of the walk home is silent and comfortable and Ian likes it, Fiona doesn't press anymore and Ian is left to just enjoy her company, she makes them both sandwiches when they get home and he invites Mandy over, there's a documentary on elephant poaching at seven pm and the Gallagher's will be damned if they miss it. 

Mandy shows up at five o'clock, after all they have so much to catch up on, Ian stopped replying to her texts about four months ago, so its needless to say that they've both missed out on a lot. Her hug is crushing, and Ian wonders how Mandy can even hold so much strength in those dainty limbs of hers. 

_You don't know my sister till you fought my sister._

It's uncomfortable and her shoulder jabs into his throat but its fucking perfect and Ian wouldn't have it any other away. 

'Where the fuck have you been douchebag.' She says once she pulls away and punches him, hard, in the arm her bony knuckles hurt like a mother fucker and judging by the smile on her face she knows it. He doesn't answer for a while, rubbing his arm because he's out of shape and that fucking hurt. 

'I'm sorry, Jesus.' Ian complains pulling her in for another hug because, god, he missed her. It was one of those things there you missed someone but didn’t know how much until they were right in front of you, and all of a sudden Ian feels like that big gaping black whole in his chest is a little less empty now. Mandy tells him about how her relationship with Kenyata crashed and burned and how after the third beating she finally packed her bags (Ian resists the urge to call Mickey's brother and pay Kenyata a little visit.) She tells him about how she did a few jobs here and there before deciding once and for all to come home. Ian tells her about Mickey, tells her how fucked up he got, tells her he was low but now he's okay, he doesn't tell her how he tried to end his life and hating that lip saved him for a while. 

'You sure you're okay now?' She asks and he sees her eyes scanning him, doubting his every word because Ian owns a mirror he knows he looks awful. 

'I'm better,' he says with a slight tilt of his head. 

'The fucks does that even mean?' Mandy hisses, because of course she can see that better doesn’t mean okay. He smiles at her endearingly, he's so happy she's back. 'Cant believe Mickey's in jail... wait no I can.' She changes the subject because that’s what bestfriends do, not that the new topic was any better. 

'It wont be for long' Ian tells her. 

'Fucking fraud' She snickers, Ian guesses its because if anything Mandy always thought Mickey would go down for drugs, 'Fucker got off lightly though, only two years' 

'18 months on good behaviour' 

Mandy laughs, 'fat chance.' 

Kev and V come over and bring their beautiful twins with them, V's hug is crushing also but she's softer than Mandy so he guesses its less crushing and more smothering, like a mother (Ian pushes the images of Monica to the back of his mind, puts in it a vault and locks it up) and Kevs hand on his shoulder is strong and steadying, he sees it in both of their eyes, 

_I'm glad you're okay._

The documentary is a good as Ian thought it'd be and he looks around the room, he thinks the only thing that could make it better is if Lip would talk to him again and Carl was out of juvie. He doesn't wish for Mickey to be there, not because he doesn't want him to be there (because he does, he _really_ fucking does) but because he doesn't deserve him there. He thinks about Mickey's face when he realised what Ian was doing, the way that he could literally see and hear Mickeys heart shatter with that simple 'fuck', thinks of fucking Sammi and her gun, thinks about how he didn't do dick to help, went into the house because he was fucking exhausted whilst gunshots went off in the distance, Ian doesn’t deserve Mickey so he doesn’t even entertain the though of him being here, Knee pressed subtly against his, sharing a beer, He threw that away as soon as he threw Mickey away. He watches as the elephant falls down, struggles, and dies on the screen, sees everyone's engrossed stares as they watch, he counts his blessings. 


	2. Standing still.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Never.' He promises, 'okay Debs? Never.' She jumps out of her chair and is in Ian's arms in seconds, her face presses against his chest, she hears his heart beat, she feels the security that’s always come from her older siblings, the security that Ian had been missing for so long, too long, but here he was, holding her together, offering so much, so much.

'He misses you.' Fiona's voice bites over the phone, she didn't even give him so much as a fucking hello before biting his balls off, bitch.  
'Fuck him.' Is the only suitable reply right now, because fuck Fiona and especially fuck Ian. There's silence at the other end because if anything a least Fiona gets this, gets this feeling, gets how Lip could be mad.

  
'Look... if you could just see hi-' She starts again, ever the mediator, he could almost laugh at the memories of the last time she tried to patch up the bad blood between them just over a year ago. Back when Ian didn't slash his wrists, and just like that the blood and the white skin and the shallow breaths are right before his eyes and he needs to squeeze them shut just to stop himself from swaying and throwing up.

  
'I can't,' he bites through clenched teeth and a pounding heart, ' I just cant fucking see him right now okay?' He hears a huff over the phone, can almost hear the frown finding a place on her lips and the nausea is quickly replaced with anger, fucking Fiona and her fucking incessant need to meddle in his and Ian's fucking beef. 'Look just give me some time to get my head sorted, Jesus,' and with that he hung up.

  
He gets it okay, he does. Ian wasn’t in the right state of mind, Ian was un-medicated, Ian had literally gone through steeling a baby, going to military prison, running away with fucking Monica of all people and breaking up with the love of his fucking like (Lip wasn't blind okay? Even he could see that Mickey was it for Ian.) all in the space of a couple months, he gets it. Things were shit, things had surpassed shit and left it well behind, he fucking gets it but he also knows that his heart cant take it. Seeing Ian like that. Laying on his bed, sheets fucking soaked in red, skin so sickly pale, Lip cant think about it, cant take it. His little brother, his best friend had stooped to a level where he found no return. Looked Lip right in the eyes told him he was okay, told him he feels much better today actually and then waltzed straight upstairs where he put a blade against his skin and had at it at his own wrists. Lips angry okay, they told each other everything if only Ian was honest. They know each other like the back of the hand so why didn’t Lip notice. He looks at his phone still in his hand, opens up his text messages, five unread messages from Ian await him, he's been avoiding them since Ian got out last week. Has been ignoring Ian's calls too, because he's already fucked up this much so what's a little more right?

  
_From Ian:_

  
_Im sorry_   
  
_I fucked up okay, Lip can you please answer me?_   
  
_I'm taking my meds, I feel pretty shit but better then before. Hows college?_   
  
_You awake? Lip please._   
  
_Im sorry_   
  
_Thanks for saving me_   
  


He reads the thanks over and over and over thanks for saving me, thanks for saving me

  
Thanks

Thanks

He remembers tearful eyes as Ian regained consciousness, he remembers being worn thin having stayed by Ian's side, remembers felling hollow, remembers going over and over and wondering where and when the exact moment he failed as Ian's big brother was, when Ian croaks,

'why am I alive?' And there was nothing but disappointment in his eyes.

Thanks for saving me.

_Your welcome_

He types out, thinks better of it and then deletes it.

\-----

Mandy goes to visit Mickey in prison, swears it’s the only time she's gunna do it, says she hates going but what kind of family would she be if she never once went to see him. Ian doesn’t think about how much he wants to go with her, doesn’t think about how fucking incredible it'd be to see Mickey, even just for a little bit, doesn’t think about it, nope not thinking about it at all.

'You alright there?' He hears Sean ask as he watches Ian, there's this weird look Sean gives Ian sometimes, like they're comrades or something, like he gets it or some shit. Ian doesn’t mind it too much because the look kind of says 'we all make mistakes' kind of how Fiona always says except Sean has a little more faith, Ian guesses all those AA meeting will do that.

'Yeah.' Ian says as he does back to the dishes.

'Got this far away look about you kid.' Ian wishes he was reprimanding him like a boss rather then asking him like he was his new fucking dad or something, asking him like he's all concerned and shit. Ian would rather he cut the crap in all honesty.

'Just, thinking.' Ian replies, juts his chin in that hard way that meant 'fuck off' but Sean doesn’t really understand Ian's jaw language so instead of fucking off he stays put, fucking chuckles.

'Well don’t strain yourself,' he laughs and the pseudo dad bullshit is gone and he's Sean the asshole again, and Ian can deal with Sean the asshole a whole lot better 'less thinking and more dish washing kid, before I fire your ass,' he says as he turns to leave. As soon as the kitchen is quiet Ian starts thinking about mickey in jail again. How many times did Mickey need his freedom taken away until the universe was happy? Fucking Sammi and her fucking gun and her fucking fat fuck of a kid and this whole mess. If she hadn't gone shooting at him like some maniac and gotten the police involved maybe mickey would be walking the streets. Free. He tries not to think about how he just stood by and watched it happen, tries not to think about Mickey's face as Ian broke things off with him, tries not to think about all the different ways he's fucked up from the moment he stepped on that bus to join the army.

This is a bad road to be going down Ian knows this, he closes his eyes thinks about good things, thinks about Mandy in his arms, thinks about Fiona's smile thinks about Liam and Debbie thinks about having a job thinks about being stable. Thinks about Mickey kissing him thinks about sharing a joint with Lip thinks about Lip screaming, thinks about Mickey running from bullets. Ian drops a plat, it smashes across the tiled floor scattering in all directions the sound pulling Ian out from his thoughts and on instinct he goes to pick up the shards as fast as possible.

'No. No get the broom, Jesus,' he hears Sean's voice call, just as a practically sharp piece cuts his palm, fucking deep too 'see?' Shaun finds it necessary to add as he sees the first drop of blood hit the ground, and that’s when everything goes to shit because next thing Ian knows Fiona comes running to him, the accusation clear as day in her eyes.

'What have you done?!' She cries as she slaps the broken shards from Ian's hands and places the dirty rag in her hand over Ian's palm, Ian winces as she puts way too much pressure over his wound.

'Why would you do this Ian? Why?' She asks franticly, and all of a sudden there's this thick heavy lump in his throat and Ian cant get his words out, cant even speak because he knows what that tone means, he knows what she's accusing him of. Just like that he realizes that three months in the psych ward meant fuck all because according to his family he's still a walking talking accident waiting to happen.

'Oh chill the fuck out Fiona it was an accident,' came Sean's voice, monotonous and nonchalant as ever as he shoved her over, first aid kit in hand. Ian can see the precise moment that Fiona realizes what she's done, sees the precise moment that guilt makes its home in her mind, her eyes do that thing there they get fucking impossibly wide, like a kicked puppy, her brows furrow and her lips tremble. Her wet eyes say _sorry_ but they also say _do you blame me?_ Ian guesses he cant. Not really.

\---  
' _Take you're meds_ ' is written in thick black sharpie on a big sheet of paper and stuck on Ian's ceiling, right above his bed, it’s the first think he sees in the morning. He felt stupid as he wrote it, no, stupid was an understatement but his therapist thought it'd be good idea to write things down, thinks it'd be good for Ian to sort out his thoughts. Start from the small problems and work your way up, he had told Ian. Ian's surprised and how well it works, its like a reminder- the or else is implied. He thinks about how he had the army posters above his bed before, thinks about how they were the first and last thing he saw every day, thinks about how motivating it was, and that’s how his message found itself on his ceiling. It’s a constant reminder when he feels like staying in bed all day. Ian stares at it focuses every part of his mind on it-his handwriting is fucking awful, hasn’t improved a single bit since the 7th grade -when his phone chimes. He can guess its Fiona, probably apologizing some more whilst still at work, he looks at his phone and his eyes almost fall out of his fucking head when he sees it's from lip. Its simple, and short like all the messages between them.

_From Lip:_   
_Fuck u._

Nice. Ian could almost smile if he wasn’t so exhausted but the text was just like Lip. Just a 'fuck u' and Ian is so relieved, but then again, lip was never the one between the two of them to hold a grudge. Ian's an expert at it, Lip not so much. Since they were kids Lip never stayed too far away, never stopped being the loving, caring (asshole)big brother Fiona taught him to be. Ian lets out a sigh, thinks about all the things Lip had to deal with in the past year, family emergency after family emergency, it’s a wonder that he's still in college if Ian's being honest, he's the only one out of the trio that hasn’t fucked up and Ian knows that he's gunna have to prepare for the fucking high horse Lip will be riding when he stops giving him the cold shoulder.

He doesn’t know how long he's laying on his bed just staring holes into his ceiling and thinking about all the comebacks future Ian could say in response to whatever future Lip had to say before a light knock on his door drew him out of his thought's, its weird, how now his sisters always respected his privacy. Before they used to just waltz into each others rooms like it was their birth given fucking right, which is how they've pretty much seen it all from Fiona fucking her boyfriends to Lip rubbing one out, but now it's like they're strangers, too scare to be stepping on each others toes.

'Ian,' comes Debbie's voice 'I'm making mac n' cheese, you want some?' She doesn’t open the door, just stands on the other side. Ian's not really that hungry but he hasn't eaten since breakfast and his therapist is all into that self care bullshit so he pulls himself out of bed, it takes way more effort then he remembers it being, and swings the door open wide -inviting- a silent plea of 'don't be so afraid.' He smiles at her, tries to make his eyes look warm and like how they always did back when he was Debbie's older, reliable brother and not a walking talking disaster that likes to swing baseball bats at her head.

'I'd love some.' He says as he looks at her expecting eyes, she seems older then the last time he saw her, even though its only been three months. She's got that aged look about her that Fiona got after she took up the responsibility to take care of them all those years ago and it's fucking heart-breaking to see sweet fucking Debbie look like she's got the whole world on her shoulders. She smiles and she looks young again, looks her age and turns on her heels to lead the way to the kitchen.

Ian forgot how much Debbie loves to talk, he guesses he's mostly to blame for not having been around but Jesus she can talk. She goes off as she cooks their food, it started off as a simple question from Ian 'how are things?' And that’s all the push she needed as she starts off with school, straight A's still of course, then her new friends, then the bitches at school, then Derek and how she loves him, then Derek and how he infuriates her, then back to Derek and how perfect he is, and then because she's Debbie she goes off on a total tangent about the state of the education system and how it needs to change. Ian is surprised really that she hasn’t lost her voice by the time she sits down with both their plates. They're silent as they eat, the silence really quite deafening in comparison after Debbie's literal word vomit not five second earlier. Ian lifts his eyes from his bowl is about to compliment her on the food when he sees her eyes boring into him, her eyes are sharp and Ian isn't even sure he can identify the emotion floating around in them, they send a chill down his spine and he's heart picks up as he starts to get nervous, he feels like she's examining him, before she everts her eyes and goes back to eating her mac and cheese. This is the part where she asks him how he's been, the part where he tells her he's fine and the part where he fills her in on what he's gotten up to in the past three months. Except he's not fine and there seems to be a general consensus in the house that talking about his time in the psych ward is off limits. He watches as Debbie awkwardly eats, sees her trying desperately to think of something to say but coming up with dick. He sighs as he rests his big hand over hers, squeezing it. He focuses on her fist, the way her much smaller hand tenses at first before relaxing, she turns her hand so her palm slips against his and their fingers intertwine. Her eyes stare fixedly at his sleeved wrist, she stares as if she's expecting it to tear open right there and then.

'I fucked up.' Ian declares. A fact that can't be argued. It doesn’t stop Debbie from trying.

'Ian-' she starts.

'No Debs,' Ian interrupts, squeezing her hand a little tighter, ' I fucked up. I've been fucking up for so long. But I promise you,' he pauses he's heavy eyes stare at the top of her head as hers are still so focused on his wrists, her staring brings with it a tremendous guilt and overwhelming shame that sits at the bottom of his gut like a pile of rocks, he takes a deep inhale, wills the rocks away, they don't budge. 'I _promise_. I'm getting better.' He waits for a reply, just anything but the silence that he gets. Debbie's eyes don’t move away from his fucking wrist and he knows, he knows she's reliving that night. He's sorry, he's so, so sorry.

'Okay?' He asks, his voice entirely unsure by her lack of reaction, he wonders if she even heard a word he's said.

'O-okay.' She replies, its barely a breath as she finally, finally tears her gaze from his wrist and looks into his eyes. She searches his irises for any sign of deceit any sign of him promising the world only to walk up the stairs and makes his second attempt at his own life. She finds neither, only sees his sincerity, sees the promise, sees her older, reliable brother Ian Gallagher, she believes.

'Okay.' She repeats, so much stronger now, so full of faith. She wants him to know I trust you I trust you I trust you. Her eyes fall to his wrists again briefly before meeting his eyes, ' Never do that again.' She says, voice shaking all resolve gone and replaced with grief and Ian's heart shatters into a million pieces.

'Never.' He promises, 'okay Debs? Never.' She jumps out of her chair and is in Ian's arms in seconds, her face presses against his chest, she hears his heart beat- _budumpbudump_ -she feels the security that’s always come from her older siblings, the security that Ian had been missing for so long, too long, but here he was, holding her together, offering so much, so much.

'You scared the shit out of me.' She says and it comes out as a muffle from where her face is crushed against his chest.

'I'm sorry.' And Ian means it with every fibre of his being.


	3. Tell me how you really feel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'About what happened at work-'
> 
> 'Don’t' Ian interrupts, his voice sharp like a knife, 'don’t worry about it.' He closes his eyes briefly, takes a sip from his coffee with his free hand, avoids eye contact. Fiona takes a slow measured breath and tries not to get upset at the stranger in front of her, because that’s what Ian is, always has been. He'd rather keep it all to himself than talk to her, than talk to anyone. There's a silence and Fiona doesn't know what to do, doesn't know what to say to him, doesn't know how to make it better.

"The fuck are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you too, asshole"

Mickey and Mandy take a moment where they just look at each other, it's no longer then a couple seconds but that’s all they need to size each other up. Last time they saw each other Mandy was going away to live with her abuser and Mickey was in a stable relationship. How things have changed.

"Seriously what're you doing here? Indiana is like, three hours away." Mickey grips his hands together over the table, takes a look round the visitors room, it’s the first time he's had a visitor since he was thrown in this shit hole. He'd half expected Ian to have come to see him, begged for forgiveness or some shit. He never expected silence after three years, but that’s the thing about Ian, mickey has never once been able to tell what he'll do. Not once has he ever been clear of what Ian wanted. That much was fucking clear.

"I'm back. Left Kenyatta's sorry ass." Mandy leans back on her chair, smug look plastered across her face. Mickey is filled with something like relief, he takes in Mandy's ice cold blue eyes, so much stronger now. When she had left, Mandy had been knocked down, the confidence, the sharp edge of her attitude all but a forgotten memory. Kenyatta had drained her dry and Mickey can only thank god that she's pulled her shit together finally. Took the bitch long enough.

"Did you fucking, beat his sorry ass before you left at least?" Impossible as it seems Mandy's grin grows, it’s the Malkovich shit eating grin of no good, and Mandy doesn't need to confirm that she did more then just beat him, he thinks of Karen Jackson, thinks maybe they shouldn’t discuss this whilst they're sat in a prison.

"Good." He says with a smile.

"So Ian tells me your dumbass is in here for two years" Ian's name causes a chill to run down mickeys spine, it's not the warm feeling he used to get when Ian's name was mentioned, no, this chill is fucking cold with bitterness and red hot with rage all at the same time. Fucking Ian.

"It was two years bout, five months ago, I got like a year and a half left, one with good behaviour."

Mandy scoffs, fucking scoffs "fat chance."

"Hey! so far so good fuck you very much."

They're silent for a second after that, Mickey wants to ask, but also doesn't wanna know, Mandy can see it in the way Mickey fidgets with his fingers on the table and the way his thumb lifts up to his bottom lip.

"Ian's doing okay by the way." She leaves out the part where Ian is hiding something from her, leaves out that most days Ian looks like the walking dead. These days Ian has more shame in his eyes than she's ever seen before.

"I don’t fucking care."

"He misses you." Mickeys eyebrow twitches, Mandy catches the way the hairs stand up on his arms, the way his breath forcefully slows down, his eyes darting round the room, looking at anyone but her.

"...Fuck do I care?" He repeat and Mandy deflates, leaves this conversation for another time because she know it ain't getting anywhere today. Its unsurprising how they slip back into their old ways and before either of them know it, they've been talking about prison and shitty diner jobs for half an hour.

"Well as fun as this is douchebag, I got a shift at the diner so I'm gunna get going." Mandy finally interrupts catching the time on the clock hung on the wall and stands up she pauses, sees the slight deflation in Mickeys eyes. She knows she's the first person to come see him. Iggy shrugged when she asked him, said Mickey calls so what's the point on going. "See you next week." She adds quickly and leaves.

Mickey lays on his bunk that night, his cell mate-some thug called Johny who ended up here because he stabbed someone in the gut for looking at him wrong- chattering about his life in the background, but mickey has long tuned him out. Mandy's visit had been a breath of fresh air in this hellhole.

_Ian's doing okay_

Mickey doesn't know what he expected, Ian's a mess? Ian's illness is out of control? Ians gone awol again? he doesn’t fucking know what he expected, but something seethes inside him. Whilst mickey was in the clink agonizing each and every moment of their failed relationship, whilst mickey was locked-the-fuck-up ian was okay. ian was just fucking dandy. there's a part of him- a part that he buries deep deep deep the fuck down, because that part is weak, that part makes him weak and its that part that got him in this fuck load of mess in the first place- that feels nothing but fucking pure relief. Ian was okay.

  
…...............

  
Fiona kinda dreads going home, Fiona's dreaded going home since she was fifteen, to be honest, but this feeling of dread was different. When she was fifteen she felt dread for all the work she had to do, all of Monica's and Frank's slack she had to pick up. The last couple years though, she wakes up and she dreads failure, she looks at Liam and dreads failure, looks at Debbie dreads failure, looks at Ian... The look on Ian's face earlier that day kept replaying in her head, he had looked so hurt, his eyes do this thing when he's hurt, no matter how old he gets, they get so rounds and glassy. It's all written in his eyes you can see it all, _hurt hurt hurt_. When he was younger Fiona could read him like an open book, one look into these large open eyes and she had him all figured out.

Ian's playing video games with Debbie when Fiona finally gathers the courage to open the front door. Debbie's swearing up a storm on his right side whilst Liam is perched on his lap, totally throwing his game by smashing his tiny hands on the controller. Debbie's half sitting half standing, all her focus on the TV screen she's yelling and swearing and Ian has no choice really but to laugh as even with Liam trying his very best to sabotage Ian's game (Debbie totally bribed the little menace with chocolate before asking Ian to play with her) she was getting her ass handed to her. Debbie's always a fucking blast to play with, she's just as enthusiastic as she is bad and she lets out a honest to god yell when Ian wins.

"Rematch!" she declares, " I'm gunna beat your ass this time I know it, I'm so close" Ian laughs, shakes his head as he raises his arm and ruffles Debbie's hair, messing up the neat strands till they were sticking up in all directions. Debbie doesn't slap his hand away, she doesn't fix her hair she just laughs and punches Ian in the arm, and Ian's laughing too and Liam cheers. He actually looks like an older brother, looks happy and Fiona wishes she could freeze this moment forever and let Ian always be this happy, this carefree, that’s all she has ever wanted for her kids.

'Hey.' She greets, making her presence known, Ian's head whips towards her, the smile on his face only slightly falling before returning just as brightly.

'Hey.' He says.

'Hey.' comes Debbie's distracted voice as she set up the next round, 'you're going down Ian just you watch.' she snickers evilly to herself, Ian laughs lightly at her, but his eyes are sill on Fiona, tying to determined her next move trying to read her just like she tries to read him. Fiona cocks her head towards the kitchen and Ian takes Liam off his lap and tells Debbie he'll be back in a bit before following Fiona into the kitchen.

She doesn't start speaking straight away, this topic is always so hard to start and Ian just leans on the door frame waiting for her to begin. It's a bad sign, if Ian wasn't mad he'd be telling her to not apologize, he'd be telling her she's not at fault. A silent Ian is a pissed off Ian, the chin isn't out though, so Fiona counts her blessings. She pours herself a coffee and then pours one for Ian too, places the mug on the counter without a word and pushes it towards Ian, he gets the message, pushes himself off the door frame and walks to the counter, pulling out the stool, it's loud as the metal legs scrap against the floor, and he seats himself. Their eyes connect and Ian looks away, up close like this Fiona realizes Ian's less pissed off and more uncomfortable. Fiona reaches forward and grabs his hand, squeezed it gently in between both of hers, her thumb softly stroking his plaster. She feels that ever present pang of guilt for how she had reacted, seeing the plaster, seeing how small it really was she felt so stupid now. Back at the diner it wasn't small, back at the diner she saw blood soaked bed sheets and blood on Lips shirt and blood on the kitchen floor during thanksgiving dinner and her heart fucking stopped right then and there.

'About what happened at work-'

'Don’t' Ian interrupts, his voice sharp like a knife, 'don’t worry about it.' He closes his eyes briefly, takes a sip from his coffee with his free hand, avoids eye contact. Fiona takes a slow measured breath and tries not to get upset at the stranger in front of her, because that’s what Ian is, always has been. He'd rather keep it all to himself than talk to her, than talk to anyone. There's a silence and Fiona doesn't know what to do, doesn't know what to say to him, doesn't know how to make it better, _failure failure failure._

'Did you take your meds?' she settles with, its routine now. No meaning behind it, just a reminder, just for now.

'Yeah'

'Good.'

Ian's smile had been so easy when he was with Debbie, but his face is cold now as he slips his hand gently from between Fiona's and warps both hands around his mug, staring down into it. He had told her not to worry about it, but she can see how what happened bothers him. A lot.

'I trust you.' she declares and watches him as his eyes rise and meet hers and a flurry of emotions flutter by before he shakes his head, a humourless smiles on his lips. 'I do' she reassures.

Ian opens his mouth to reply, she sees the hot bite on his lips before he says a thing, and she sees the hesitation before he stops before the words even leave him. He exhales a breath, he sounds tiered now, fucking exhausted. The kind of exhausted that sleep can't help. She sees it in his shoulders, she sees it in his whole demeanour. 'If you did you wouldn't assume,' he begins, ' but it's fine Fi really, haven't given you a reason to trust me in a long time. It's okay.'

'It's not-'

'It'll havta be okay? coz there's not changing it is there?' The heats there again, underneath the shadows under his eyes, underneath the sign of exhaustion, the heat is there and it shoots straight through her.

'Im sorr-'

'Don't.' It's strained, like the words are hard for him. Fiona's mouth snaps shut, she stops talking, nearly stops breathing. She waits. For what? She doesn't know but she waits for him to say something, begging him in her head, _please talk to me Ian please_. He stands up, turns for the living room, turns to leave her and the moister gathers in Fiona's eyes faster then she was prepared for, she looks to the ceiling, willing the tears to stay put, _don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry_. Next thing she realizes is strong arms around her, Ian's chin resting on the top of her head her face being squashed against his chest. God he's gotten so tall.

'It's about me,' he says 'I'm not mad at you Fi, it's me. You're doing okay. Doing just fine.' He gives her a squeeze and places a quick kiss on the crown of her head before leaving, joining Debbie in the living room.

'Ready for me to kick your ass, huh?' She hears him goad. Her hands find the kitchen counter to stabilize herself, her face scrunches up, as she tries to keep the tears from falling but she fails as a whimper escapes her. She's failed him. Again and again and again. She squeezes her eyes shut, stops the tears, wipes them away and gets started on dinner.

  
…..

  
Ian's doctor changes his meds, _only a few tweaks_ he had said, _to stop making you feel so low_ , he said. Ian knows that finding the right dosage, finding the right cocktail, takes a while he knows its trial and error but still it’s a blow, its failure. He comes home with his new bottles, new meds, the same but new. Liam is sat on the kitchen counter table eating a sandwich. Absorbed in it, licking his little fingers and smacking his lips as peanut butter is smudged on his cheek. Innocent Liam, who's seen so much but is too young to remember, to understand. Innocent Liam who will only know Ian as he is now, who loves him anyways.

'Hey buddie.' Ian almost coos, Liam making him forget about his appointment with his doctor 'what you got there?' He asks as he runs his hand over Liam's head, landing a big loud kiss on it. Liam giggles, ever loving the attention.

'San'wich' he beams as he scoffs the rest of it in his mouth. 'Sorry, none left for you Een.' Ian cant help but smile down at him. Innocent little Liam is a little shit too.

  
'Is that so?' he says as he picks Liam up, lands another kiss on Liam's cheek, 'wanna watch some TV?' He asks as he walks into the living room, to which of course Liam cheers with enthusiasm, the kids brain was gunna melt with how much TV we was watching. Liam insists that the only place he can watch the power rangers comfortably is on Ian's lap.

'No sleeping all day.' Liam demands. Sometimes Ian thinks Liam is the one that missed him the most. Since Ian came back the little guys been clinging to him, coming into his room at night and sneaking into Ian's bed, it’s a different excuse each time. Nightmare. Too cold. Weird noises from the attic. There's a mouse under his bed. It's nice when Liam is all relaxed against him, its nice how he laughs and then looks back at Ian to make sure he saw, making sure he finds it funny too. Liam has so much trust for him, sees Ian as the strong, reliable brother that Ian wishes he was. He thinks about when he was younger, how even when frank was mad and would hit him every now and again Ian thought he was amazing. Ian would listen to him rant and talk and think Frank was the smartest man alive. He remembers thinking no one was as nice as Monica. No one was as fun as Monica. But then he grew up. Then he started to understand and Liam will too. He hugs him a little tighter tries not to think about it.

'Oh, you back?' He hears Fiona's voice as she descends the stairs 'How'd it go?'

'Alright,' Ian answers, leaning his head back against the back of the coach instead of turning his head 'made a few changes to stop me feeing so down.'

'That's good!' Fiona cheers in her fake enthusiasm. ' Thought as much, getting you up for work was beginning to become a real pain in the ass' she laughs lightly, trying to not make it sound too serious. Just a stubborn teen that cant be arsed to get up in the morning.

'Yeah.' Ian says, its absent minded, distant and Fiona catches onto it straight away. She walks over to him and plants a kiss on his forehead.

  
'It's a good thing. Each change is getting closer to the end result. It's progress.'

'Dont feel like progress.'

'It is.' Fiona says going to the fridge getting out a beer and joining Ian and Liam on the coach. 'In other good news you having a job its really helping get the bills paid, so cheers' she says lifting her beer into the air and taking a swig.

"cheers!' Liam repeats, his hands flying into the air and nearly punching Ian in the face.

'Paid the electric today then?' Ian asks, looking at the soft smile on Fiona's lips. He doesn't mention it but he knows Debbie's job at the gym is also the reason they can pay their bills, Ian's wage mostly goes to his meds.

'On time for the first time in months.' Fiona beams, she looks at Ian then, face bright, eyes shining 'Things are coming together again. We should count our blessings' She says lifting her hand and running it through Ian's hair.

  
'Yeah' Ian agrees. turning his focus back onto the power rangers, Liam is real snug against Ian's chest and he can hear his breath evening out, the little shits gunna fall asleep on him isn't he?

'you hear from Lip?' She asks, lifting the beer back to her lips, slumping lower on the coach, getting comfortable.

'Text me a 'fuck you' a couple days ago, hasn't replied to me since though' He says with a little shrug acting nonchalant, like he isn't dying to see Lip, like he doesn't check his phone multiple times a day to see if Lips replied. Fiona hums.

'He'll come round.'

'I know.'  
…..........................

  
'You still feeling crazy?' Comes Carl's voice over the receiver.

'Yep.' Ian replies. Talking to Carl is strangely easy. He asks all the questions other people are too afraid to ask and there is no judgement.

'Crazy enough to do it again?' Carl asks, Ian sees his eyes get hard, sees the 'don’t' behind his irises.

'No, you don’t gotta worry bout that.' Ian says, a reassuring smile on his lips.

'Good' carl says.'It sucked being stuck in here when you were hurt.' Carl says. 'sucks in here all the time actually...'

'Sorry.'

'Me too.'

'Juvie not as fun as you imagined?' Ian says, changing the subject.

'No.' Carl says, lowering his head, rubbing his hand across his eyes.

'Yeah hospital sucked too, at least I got to wear my own clothes though, you look shitty in orange.' Ian laughs and sees a soft smile on Carl's lips.

'Asshole.'

'How long you got left in here?' Ian asks, its hard seeing Carl so close but not being able to hug him, no being able to ruffle his hair.

'dunno, like six months? maybe earlier if I'm good?'

'You been good?'

'So far.'

'Keep it up.' Ian says, keeping his voice light, he kinda gets why Fiona does it too. It's like a desperate need to make the situation look better than it is.  
'You too.' Carl say. 'And another thing, next time you come her watch out okay?' Carl says sounding serious, eyes narrowing, looking around him with suspicion. Ian tenses, leans closer to the window.

'why?' He eyes up the other boys on the other end of the glass tying to spot the threat.

'That hair gets any longer and you'll be mistaken for jail bait.' Carl says, face still serious, but a twinkle behind his eyes. Ian shakes his head, tension replaced with amusement.

'Just coz you're behind bars don’t mean I wont kick your ass when you get out.' He says, with no real venom at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the first couple chapters wont be very intense or interesting, I'm just setting up the story, shit will start happening soon with Ian and mickey.


End file.
